Truth: A Series of Drabbles
by Old Romantic
Summary: 20 drabbles, each 250 words or less, reuniting the Charming family in Storybrooke. Slight GoldBelle. Post-Heart of Darkness and AU.


**Timeline/Spoilers:** Post "Heart of Darkness," AU

**Characters/Pairings: **David/Mary Margaret (Snow/Charming), Emma, Henry, slight Gold/Belle, Dr. Hopper, David/Emma (father/daughter 'ship)

**Disclaimer:** OUAT is property of ABC and WD and Kitsis/Horowitz. I'll put all the characters back unharmed when I'm through…and then I'm sure I'll take them out again with my next fic and repeat the process. :D

**Summary:** Written for a **onceuponaland **(on LJ) challenge; 20 drabbles, each 250 words or less, lots of David/Emma father/daughter goodness, some Snow/Charming, and even Gold/Belle. :)

**A/N:** I'm a sucker for father/daughter (and particularly, David/Emma) fics, and that's how this was born, spinning off of David's memories of the FTL in "Heart of Darkness."

Enjoy! :)

* * *

It was during his first sleepless night after leaving Mary Margaret in her jail cell, crying and angry at him for questioning her about Kathryn's death, that the dreams began.

At first, it was just more of what David had seen during his hypnotized state with Dr. Hopper.

The woods. Snow on the ground. Mary Margaret in a hood, declaring she'd kill "her." Him trying to stop her, but unable to move any closer, frustrated and worried that her heart was growing darker by the minute, becoming less like the woman he knew and loved. She'd walk away, leaving him behind, immobile and calling after her.

He'd awaken with a start, sweaty and stressed. It was all just so _real_. Yet, he _knew_ Mary Margaret, _knew_ that she wasn't capable of being so cold and calculating and...murderous. She was kind and innocent and the sweetest person he'd ever known.

Resting in that truth, he'd eventually fall back asleep, and the dreams would clear up even more.

The feel of her lips on his.

The pain of the arrow in his shoulder.

Her gentle touch on his good arm.

The tears they each had on their cheeks, mingling as they kissed after a long time apart.

The love in her gaze.

Caught. Captured. Taken from her.

"_No!_" he yelled as he was thrown into a cage.

And then he heard his own voice saying the one thing that would change his entire perception of everything he knew to be true:

"_Snow!_"

* * *

The dreams didn't make any sense to him anymore. He'd never actually believed that Mary Margaret could be capable of murdering anyone, but that first memory had been so real, so vivid. He'd seen the pure hatred in her eyes, but it just didn't fit with the gentle woman he knew so well. But these new dreams – or memories, he hadn't decided yet – were like they were from another life. Only, it didn't seem like a life he'd ever known.

He walked every day to clear his head, but it didn't work. The scar he'd thought was from a bicycle accident as a kid was in the very same place as the arrow. And if that part of the dream was true, then kissing a version of Mary Margaret – who had long hair, and when had she ever had long hair since he met her after waking from his coma? – had to be true, too. If he could just find someone to talk to about-

He ran smack into young Henry, completely unaware that they'd even been on the same path, as he was passing by Henry's bus stop, where the kids were being left off for the afternoon. "Sorry, uh, Henry," David said, scooting past the boy. "I guess my mind was just on Snow, uh, everything."

"Snow White?" Henry asked curiously.

David stopped and looked at him. "What?"

"You said, 'Snow.' Did you remember something?"

He leveled a serious look at him. "Remember what?"

* * *

They were sitting on the platform of the new playground with Henry's book open across his lap. "You said Mary Margaret was telling you that she was going to kill someone. Did she say who?"

David shook his head. "She just said, 'her.'"

He flipped a few pages. "Did you try to stop her?"

David closed his eyes and tried to relive it. "No, it was like...I couldn't."

Henry giggled. "You were tied up to a tree."

"I was? Why?"

That's when he tilted the book his direction, revealing that very image of Mary Margaret in her black hood with the vengeful look on her face. "That's it. That's...her."

"Mary Margaret," Henry said. "Snow White."

"No," David shook his head. "That's just a fairy tale."

Henry pursed his lips. "What else do you remember?"

He thought aloud, "Uh... An arrow in my shoulder."

Another few pages were flipped and another memory was splayed across in the form of a drawn picture. An arrow in his left shoulder, tears on the cheeks of both him and his ladylove, and his shared kiss with Mary Margaret from his dream, in print as Snow White.

"No," he muttered, reaching for the book to read the words that were printed opposite the picture about Charming's attempt to break the curse of the potion she'd drank.

"_No one's ever been willing to die for me,_" he read Snow's words.

Before he read the next line, he recalled and said aloud, "No one you can remember."

* * *

He met with Henry regularly after that, getting information and tidbits of the story from him. He'd thought to take the book and read it for himself, but felt that it wouldn't feel like memories if got them from another source than his own mind.

They'd meet at the playground every couple of days. Sometimes, David would come with new dreams and lots of questions. Like Mr. Gold. He remembered seeing him in one of the dreams, but he didn't look or act like the man they all knew in Storybrooke. He was silly and shiny and dramatic with his movements. At their fifth meeting, when David mentioned getting Snow's location from Gold with a map he'd made appear out of nowhere, Henry got excited, flipping through his book.

"Rumpelstiltskin," Henry read, excited to finally have Gold figured out. "Does that sound familiar?"

"Not...really," David replied. "But, what does he do to Snow and James?"

But the real surprise came at their eighth meeting. David was pacing for that one, rubbing his hands through his hair. "I swear she was pregnant. Did we have a baby?"

Henry giggled again, which, by now, David had learned was his way of saying that he knew more than David did. "Yep."

David stopped and stared at him. "And?"

"And she's the only one that can break the curse."

"How? Where can I find her? In Storybrooke? Who is she? Do I know her?"

"Mmhmm," Henry quietly mumbled and nodded. "Her name is Emma."

* * *

David was nervous as he clenched his fist before rapping on the apartment door. His _daughter_. She was old enough to be considered his own age, so it was weird, but she was also family, and he was the father she'd never known. He wanted to fix that immediately.

When Emma opened the door and greeted him, it seemed silly that he'd never noticed before how she had Snow's exact eyes and his smile. Why hadn't he seen it?

"David...can I help you?"

He was staring, and it might soon be considered creepy. "Yeah," he nodded, trying to be nonchalant. "Can I come in?"

"Sure," she replied, stepping back to let him in and close the door. "What's up? Want something to drink?"

"Sure, anything," he said, just so that he could put together his words.

After they were sitting at the table, he held his glass of soda in between his hands and stared at it to tell her, "I've been spending some time with Henry."

She seemed surprised. "Really? Why?"

"He's been helping me...remember."

"Remember what?"

He met her eyes; he couldn't speak the truth without holding her gaze. "My life...with Snow White."

She held her forehead. "Oh, gosh, he's gotten to you, too? I'm sorry – I'll have a talk with him about that book."

David reached out for her hand. "No, please. He's right," he pleaded with her. "I remember...almost everything now." He paused, the heaviness of his burden almost outweighing his joy. "I'm your father."

* * *

"It's not possible! Right?" Emma paced in front of the cell, begging Mary Margaret to speak some sense into her. "I mean, you and I joke about being mother and daughter, but now David thinks he's my father, too? This is insanity!"

"Yeah, probably. But wouldn't it be great if it was true?"

She stopped and stared at her dark-haired counterpart. "What?"

Mary Margaret shrugged. "So many things would make sense. If I'm Snow White and Regina's the Evil Queen, that would explain why she hates me so much and wants to torture me with these false accusations."

"What are you saying? You want to believe him?"

"Emma, I'm in jail. I'm willing to believe anything that will get me out of here." She walked over to the bars and held onto them. "If you are the savior, the one that can break the curse, like Henry says, then only you have the power to rescue us from all of this. It doesn't matter if the rest of us remember our lives there and believe; if you don't believe it too, we'll be stuck here forever."

Emma shook her head. "But, it's impossible," she argued, almost whining.

Mary Margaret let go of the bars and backed up, hugging herself. "But if it is true, and you could free your mother who's being framed for murder, wouldn't you rather take a chance in believing in that impossible thing? Wouldn't you rather have the family you've been looking for all your life...together?"

* * *

Emma had to fight nerves to knock on David's front door, but she'd resolved with Mary Margaret to talk to him and find out what he knew, and she wasn't going to go back on her word. He seemed sad at first when the door opened, but when he saw her, his face lit up. "Emma."

"Hi...David," she mumbled his name, wondering what most was appropriate to call him now that she was starting to believe the stories.

"Come in," he insisted, moving back to let her through the door. He closed it and put his hands in his back pockets, chuckling when she did exactly the same thing. She consciously put her hands by her side then. "Did you talk to S- Mary Margaret?"

"Yeah," she nodded and shrugged. "She wants to believe..."

"You're still having trouble."

Emma laughed uncomfortably. "It's a lot to take in."

"Come here," he gestured to the living room, where he lead her to the couch for them both to sit. Emma chose the opposite end from him. "I know it's a lot to accept; it was for me, too. They came first as dreams. It wasn't until I talked to Henry that I knew they were memories." He shook his head. "I still don't remember everything, but I loved Snow very much, and we were married and happy."

"That's great, but all of that is in the book. Just stories."

"Then, how do you explain what I remember thinking when you were born?"

* * *

"It's not possible. It's just not possible." Emma was wearing a path in David's living room carpet. "I live in a place called, 'reality'. This is fiction!"

David stopped her by holding her arms. "Emma, I remember feeling you kick in Snow's stomach. I remember being so proud to find out I was having a daughter. I remember the moment you were born, when Doc put you in Snow's arms, and we cried together, knowing we were going to lose you to this world. I remember the hard choice we made to send you through ahead of us, alone. We didn't want to, Emma," the moisture filled his eyes, and the tears quietly began to fall down his cheeks. "We _had_ to."

Emma was crying now, too, and suddenly she was in her father's arms, making up for lost time with a hug she'd never felt. She cried for all the years she'd looked for them, the years she'd missed them, the hurt she'd repressed for so long, surfacing and releasing, finally healing her broken heart. She'd finally found the parents she'd been looking for all of her life.

When they parted, David held her cheek and smiled at her, their faces wet with tears. "You look just like your mother," he said, and they both laughed.

"She needs to know," Emma voiced. "She needs to remember."

"We'll help her," he vowed.

"But there's one more problem." Her face grimaced and smiled. "What am I supposed to call you now?"

* * *

Emma walked into the police station to see Mary Margaret, but not alone. Her long-lost father trailed behind her, both of them with an agenda in mind.

"What's he doing here?" Mary Margaret asked dryly.

Emma didn't waste time opening the jail cell door. "We three need to talk."

She gestured to the couch for the two of them, while she turned one of the desk chairs around to straddle it. "Mary Margaret... David and I have been talking, and...I believe him."

"Believe him about what?"

David took over. "You remember the memory I had, about us in the woods?"

"The one you think convicts me of murder?"

He nodded. "It wasn't Kathryn you wanted to kill. It was Regina."

"Oh, so, now you think I've attempted murder before?"

"No," he shook his head. "It wasn't here. It wasn't...in Storybrooke. The memory I had was from another life. In Henry's book, you're Snow White."

"I know," she said evenly.

"No, you don't understand," he tried again. "We _lived_ that life in the book. I remember knowing you and..." he drew in a happy breath, "and..._loving_ you as Snow White. I remember everything about us, our...love that gave us Emma."

She blushed and her eyes widened. "So..." she paused, closing her eyes to think clearly, "you're saying that the curse had us step right off the pages into Storybrooke? Why is it that you remember this, and I don't?"

Father and daughter shared a look before they both answered, "Dr. Hopper."

* * *

"First of all," Emma held up her hand between her and Dr. Hopper, "we need you not to tell Regina anything about this."

"Okay," he said hesitantly.

"Secondly, we want you to meet with all three of us at one time."

"I can do that. I do family counseling sometimes."

Emma smiled. "Well, good, then, because we're family."

He stood back as Emma came into his office, trailed by David and Mary Margaret. "How so?" he wondered as they each picked a seat and sat down.

Emma gestured to the couple. "They're my parents."

Dr. Hopper paused for a long time before calmly replying, "Alright." He moved to sit down in his chair with a pad of paper. "So...what can I do for you?"

David began, "We need you to hypnotize S- Mary Margaret the way you did me."

"For what purpose?"

"She needs to remember her former life, the way I remembered mine when I was here last."

"With…Kathryn?" He was confused.

David shook his head. "When I ran out, it was because I had other memories that weren't about Kathryn, and they weren't helpful to Mary Margaret's case either. But they weren't from this life. I just didn't know that." Then David cocked his head. "Wait…your voice... You're Jiminy Cricket."

Dr. Hopper's smile was lopsided. "You've been talking to Henry."

"Henry knows who you are, too?"

His eyebrows furrowed. "If he didn't tell you, how did you know?"

Emma agreed with David's expression by saying, "Tell him everything."

* * *

They used David's memories to jump-start Mary Margaret's. But she was blocked by the fake memories of the curse. Kisses he tried to mention were confused with kisses they'd shared in Storybrooke. Places they'd seen or been could be explained away in their own world. Everyone they knew before was someone they knew now. Except…

David's gaze shot to Emma's, and he reached for Mary Margaret's hand. "The baby," he said, taking over Dr. Hopper's role as guide. "Think of our baby, Snow. Think of Emma. Do you remember when she was born?" He smiled nostalgically. "How happy we were? The curse was close but you were too far along to stop the baby from coming... Doc handed her to you, and for a minute, we were all together as a family. Do you remember the blanket I had made for her? We sent it with her-"

"The wardrobe; it only takes one," Mary Margaret whispered. "Goodbye, Emma," she finished, one silent tear slipping out and drifting down her cheek.

"That's it," David whispered, leaning over to be close to her face. "I'm here, Snow. It's me, Charming."

"You died," she cried back, still under the hypnosis. "I held you, but you were gone."

"No, I'm here." He kissed her cheek. "I'm here."

He chanced kissing her lips, and she awoke, just like she had from the Sleeping Curse in his memory. Something in her eyes had changed, when she looked at him and quietly exclaimed, "Charming...you found me!"

* * *

They were all sitting in the cell, Emma straddling a chair and the couple on the cot clinging hands and comparing memories, though Mary Margaret didn't have as many as David did. He was explaining his first memory, hoping to clear up their misunderstanding once and for all. "It wasn't you, here in Storybrooke. It was me talking to you _as Snow_. You didn't remember me at the time, and I had to stop you from trying to kill the queen by jumping in front of you and taking the arrow." He shifted to open his shirt and reveal the scar. "This wasn't a bike accident like I thought. This was from the arrow, just like this," he pointed to his chin, "was from when we met, when you hit me with a rock."

Mary Margaret's eyebrow went up. "Sounds like we had a rough history."

David chuckled and squeezed her hand between them. "Yeah, we did."

She glanced at their full-grown daughter. "But how is it that Emma is our age?"

"It's the curse. We've been trapped in time. Rumpelstiltskin said that Emma would come back on her 28th birthday to break the curse and free us."

Emma added, "And that was the day that Henry found me and brought me here."

"Henry," Mary Margaret thought aloud, her face scrunching. "What are the odds that Regina would adopt our grandson?"

"A million to one," Emma said dryly. "But I think I might know who helped orchestrate that little detail."

* * *

Emma was sitting at her dining room table, pouring over Henry's book, while David paced the floor, his hands in his pockets. "Mind sitting down?" Emma asked him. "Trying to concentrate here."

"Sorry," he proclaimed, lowering himself to the stairs. "I just feel like I should be _doing_ something. In the old days, I would storm the castle and fight with my sword to get what I needed."

Emma snickered, imagining him doing just that. "Yeah, well, here in the real world, we have to do things a little differently. It's not as easy as fighting for what you love. Most of the time, it pays to be a bit more calculated. Believe me, I know. Comes from years of experience with less than honorable types."

His eyes settled on his daughter. "Did you have a good childhood?"

"I wouldn't say that."

"But…" he worried, "you had people who cared for you, loved you."

She kept her eyes downcast. "When Henry found me, I was celebrating my birthday alone. Why else would I come to Storybrooke just to drop him off and then never leave? No one back in Boston misses me."

"That's not what I expected," David whispered, blinking back tears. "You were a baby; I never thought..." He shook his head. "I'm sorry your life was hard, Emma. We never wanted that for you."

"I know," she mumbled, trying to focus on the words on the page, though her eyes were blurring with tears and making it impossible.

* * *

"How long did you have me before I went through the wardrobe?" Emma wondered over their second – or was it, third? – cup of tea for the evening.

"Doesn't the book say?" David asked, eyeballing the storybook on the table from his vantage point next to Emma at the sink.

She shook her head. "Henry and I burned the last few pages to keep them away from Regina."

He nodded in understanding. "Less than an hour, I'd say."

"And you had my baby blanket made?"

"You remember it?"

"I still have it." She left her tea on the counter to retrieve the blanket from its closet and returned, holding it out to him.

He grinned as he took it, shocked. "This is it. Unbelievable, it's just like I remember. And it's here, in my hands, proof that I'm not dreaming."

"You might feel that way, but I-" she stopped abruptly, hesitant to say what she'd been thinking.

He tried, "You're still having a hard time believing."

"No," she surprised him, saying the opposite. "It's just difficult to grasp the idea of another realm, another world we lived in, you know?"

He half-smiled, "Yeah, well, if it's any consolation, you weren't in it very long, and neither were the rest of us. But I do remember holding you, our baby, and saying goodbye. It was the hardest thing I'd ever done."

"Yeah," she nodded, remembering how that felt when Henry was born. "Yeah, I know how that feels."

* * *

"Tell me about Henry," David said. They were now sitting on the couch, and though it was nearly midnight, neither could seem to detach from getting to know one another. "Who's his father?"

Emma curled her feet up tighter under her body. "Oh, you know. Just some guy I thought was worthy of my attention, and when we woke up in the morning, I realized it had been just the alcohol talking."

"So...no relationship with him, then?"

"He wouldn't have given it a chance, even if I'd wanted him to. He was just some random guy at a party. Didn't leave his number, and to this day, his last name is still a bit of a blur..."

David chuckled at her humorous expression.

"Henry was born the last month of my senior year. My foster parents kicked me out once they found out I was pregnant, so I was bounced around until I turned eighteen, when I was allowed to go out on my own. I made some...friends, if you could call them that, and despite their assurances that I was welcome to keep the baby and stay with them, I wanted a better life than that, for both of us. I held him for about five minutes to say goodbye, and I gave him up, thinking I'd never see him again, until he showed up at my door last year."

He nodded. "He's a strong kid, though I must say..." he smiled, "that seems to be a family trait."

* * *

"I don't know," David was saying, dreamily. "I just couldn't forget Snow, no matter how hard I tried."

Emma smiled, leaning on her arm on the back of the couch. "Abigail didn't notice?" By now, she knew all of their story.

"No, I don't think so, though she should have. King George just didn't give us much time alone together after I came back from...Snow." He lifted his gaze and locked his eyes with hers. "Have you ever been in love, Emma?"

"No," she chuckled, fidgeting nervously. Then she sighed. "I never allowed anyone to get close. Not until..."

"Oh, that sounds like there was someone," he said teasingly.

"Don't get your hopes up. It was very brief. It was..." she cast her gaze downward again. "Graham."

Understanding laced his voice. "Oh."

"It's not like we were in love or anything, just...for the first time, I saw the possibility. He was the first one in my life to ever show interest in something more than my b- well, you know."

David held back a chuckle. "Yeah, well..." he sobered, "Graham was a good man."

"He wasn't perfect, but, then again, neither am I."

"And there hasn't been anyone else? What about that guy, the stranger?"

"August," Emma nodded. "Yeah, he's...interesting."

"'Interesting' is a good start."

She narrowed her eyes. "Why the sudden interest in my love life?"

He shrugged. "I guess it's the father in me, wanting you to find the same kind of happiness I've found with your mother."

* * *

"Hey, Emma," Henry said jovially as he came around the corner into the sheriff's office.

Emma had been chatting with David – James – Charming – her father and Mary Margaret – Snow – her mother – about what she'd discovered in the book regarding Mr. Gold. She stood up from her chair and smiled over at him. "Hey, kid. What are you doing here?"

"Just visiting," he said lightly.

Emma hadn't noticed how the woman in the cell had stood and was smiling rather tearfully at the boy, but Henry did. "Hi, Miss Blanchard," he said in greeting, eyeing her awkwardly. David, too, seemed to be smiling strangely at him.

She held the bars to declare, "Henry, I know now that I'm Snow."

He blinked in surprise. "You do?"

"Yeah," Emma nodded. "We all know it's true now. David and I spent the entire night catching up."

He was suddenly worried. "Does my mom know?"

"No, and we're going to keep it that way. I'm going to go see Gold."

"You mean, Rumpelstiltskin."

"Right. He was the one to arrange your adoption, so he must've known that you would draw me here to Storybrooke and break the curse."

Henry nodded, just as Snow voiced, "Emma?" The blonde spun to look at her young mother. "All this time that Henry's been in my class, I had no idea that he was our grandson. Can we hug him?"

Henry agreed with a shrug, and Emma didn't hesitate opening the cell door.

* * *

Hours of research paid off. Following a hunch, Emma looked up the one loose end she'd found in Henry's book. Regina had told Rumpelstiltskin that his ladylove had killed herself, which, from Emma's experience with her seemed...fabricated. Once she'd figured out who Mo French was, putting it together with Gold's hatred of him and the weird accusations about a "her" he'd yelled in his anger that Emma still couldn't place, Bella Francois hadn't been hard to find. Apparently, she was locked up as a paranoid schizophrenic, though, given her storybook history, Emma doubted it was true.

Using her knowledge of everyone in town, she found her way into the locked basement of the hospital. The nurse at the bottom of the stairs proclaimed that she couldn't be down there, but Emma had just scoffed and told her to try to stop her if she wanted to. She still yanked the phone from the wall just to insure she couldn't warn Regina.

Belle was on the other side of a metal door; Emma could only see her through a slot and it was dark in the room, but the girl did match the picture she'd seen in the book. "I'm gonna get you out of here and back with the man you love," she promised, hoping that the passion that drove him to beat Mo French was enough love to use as leverage to get his help. She could only hope his love hadn't died with the enacting of the curse.

* * *

Mr. Gold was _not_ happy to see her. Then again, Emma couldn't recall a time she'd ever seen him smile, so that didn't mean much. She came into his back room and slammed her palms down on his desk. "I know about the curse," she declared, hoping that would start the ball rolling toward reversing it, even if she wasn't fully on board with the whole idea, though she'd read Henry's entire book.

"Do you, now?" he said nonchalantly. "And?" He stood up to put a ledger on the shelf behind him.

"And..." Emma went on, "I wanna know how to get rid of the queen."

"And who's that, dearie?"

She shook her head. "Oh, you are _so_ Rumpelstiltskin."

He spun around and eyeballed her for a moment. "What makes you say that?"

"'Dearie'? It's like your favorite pet name for everyone."

He still seemed impassive.

She had to up the ante. "I know about you, too. And I did some digging. Your Belle isn't dead like the queen told you. I found her, right here in Storybrooke, alive and well."

Emma was pleased when his whole demeanor seemed to shift. Suddenly he was rigid and his eyes were wide open. "And I suppose you don't intend to tell me where that may be unless I help you."

"Oh, no, I'll gladly tell you." She leaned over with her hand on his desk. "But if you want my help rescuing her, you're gonna have to help me rescue everyone else."

* * *

They walked briskly toward the hospital when Gold discovered that Emma had already been to see Belle, and Regina might've been alerted. He worried that she could have the girl moved somewhere else where they might never find her if they didn't make haste.

Emma explained, "Mo French didn't even know she was still alive. It appears Regina kidnapped her and changed her name before she stuck her in that hole. I think we may finally have grounds to put her away."

He shook his head. "No, you'll just break the curse and send us all back home. I'll deal with Regina."

The nurse stood when they reached her station at the bottom of the stairs, but with a wave of his hand, she was knocked back against the wall and crumpled to the floor. Emma's eyes were wide. "You do still have powers here."

He didn't answer, pushing onward to Belle's room. The door was unlatched with a flick of his wrist, but he froze when he saw the girl huddled in the corner. Emma rushed ahead and picked her up off of the floor. "Come on, we're gonna get you out of here," she coaxed. "Do you know who you are?"

"Bella," she answered hoarsely.

Gold saw that her legs were weak and knew that Regina most likely kept her drugged. When her gaze met his, he nervously introduced himself, "Don't fear, dearie. I'm…Rumpelstiltskin."

Though he'd begun with a rare truth…there was still a long, bumpy road ahead.

* * *

_END...probably. I could be persuaded to continue this, after my RumBelle fic is done. :) Review please! And thanks for reading!_


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